


Pushing

by B1nary_S0lo



Series: Aylwen Lavellan [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Cuddling, Dissociation, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Mild Sexual Content, Past Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 10:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7263697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B1nary_S0lo/pseuds/B1nary_S0lo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen gets a late night visit from Aylwen. Direct sequel to "A Night in Honnleath."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pushing

Cullen woke to the touch of a soft hand on the back of his neck, and to a familiar voice whispering just beside his ear.

“Cullen? Cullen, wake up.”

He blinked his eyes open and, after a moment of confusion, realized that he was lying with his face pressed into his desk, papers scattered everywhere. He turned his head, smiled when he saw Aylwen bent over him, her eyes bright and lips slightly parted. She stepped back, but kept a hand on the back of his chair.

“I wouldn’t have woken you,” she said, “but I thought you might regret sleeping here in the morning. It doesn’t look very comfortable.”

“Thank you,” he said. He sat up with a groan, back cracking. “You may have a point.”

She grinned, brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re working very late,” she commented.

Her tone was casual, but her brow was wrinkled in concern, an expression he’d seen many times in the War Room.

“Yes.” He glanced back at his papers, but only for a moment. “There’s a lot to do before you leave for the Western Approach.”

He saw her knuckles tighten along the back of the chair. “I know,” she said, “but, you shouldn’t push yourself. Sleep is important too.”

He reached out and took her hand in his own. Squeezed. “I’m being careful,” he said. “I promise.”

He didn’t mention why he was really working late—trying to put the nightmares off for as long as possible—or how often he did it. There was no point in worrying her further.

He studied her hand for a moment, tracing the soft skin and fine bones with his thumb. He could never get over how small her hands were, so delicate for someone who could be so formidable. He traced up to her wrist, and felt her shiver slightly.

“What are _you_ doing up so late?” he said, thumb still pressing gently against her wrist. It was rare for her to visit his office at night. They’d yet to share a bed, after all.

She smiled shyly, looking down at him through her lashes.

“I missed you,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Her grin widened and she stepped closer. Resting her hands on his shoulders for balance, she bent and kissed him. He closed his eyes, let his own lips part. Even after all this time, the touch of her lips still thrilled him, washed through him like a wave of warm water. He clasped his hands behind her back, drew her a little nearer.

He’d missed her too. They’d returned from Honnleath only a few days ago, but they’d had few chances to be alone since then. No chance to talk about what had happened, either.

Thinking about it made him falter. Maybe she noticed, because she broke the kiss, let her forehead rest against his. He could feel her warm breath on his face.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave so soon,” she said softly.

He tightened his hands along her back.

“Me too,” he said.

She sighed and leaned in for another kiss, resting her hands, this time, on his knees. Her fingers tightened against the fabric of his trousers. It was just a whisper of a touch, but unexpected enough to make a shudder pass through him.

But she didn’t stop there. Still kissing him, she slid her palms up his legs, settling one hand, gently, against his hardening cock. He started, opened his eyes.

She broke the kiss, but kept her hand in place, looking down at him. Her expression was a little apprehensive, eyebrows raised in a question.

“Is this all right?” she said.

“Yes,” he said breathlessly. “Yes, but are you sure…?” Just a few days ago she’d said she wasn’t ready.

“I’m fine,” she said.

He wanted to ask her more, but she caught his mouth in another kiss and pressed her hand, firmly, against him. He lost track of whatever he’d been going to say. He half panted as they kissed, head tilting back and legs spreading to allow her more access. She moved her lips to his jawline, knelt to kiss delicately down his neck even while her hand continued its work. He squeezed his eyes shut, mouth open in a silent pant.

She paused, and he felt her tug at his arm.

“Let’s get more comfortable,” she said.

He was only able to nod. He allowed her to guide him out of his chair and onto the floor. He settled on his side, and she settled down beside him. He barely noticed the hardness of the stones, he was too busy reaching for her, pulling her as close against him as he could. They kissed, open mouthed, as he laced his legs with hers, rolled his hips. She gasped into his mouth, her hands along the back of his neck. He was lost in the sensations. He wanted her so much—under him, over him, bare skin against skin. He would never get enough of her.

Then, he noticed that her body had gone limp, and she was no longer moving along with him. He paused, raised himself slightly to look down at her.

“Aylwen?” he said.

Her eyes were shut tight, body curling, subtly, away from him. When she spoke, she sounded short of breath, a forced cheerfulness in her voice.

“I’m… fine,” she said. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” he said. “If you want to stop…”

“No!” she said. Then, more quietly. “No. Keep going.”

“Aylwen, I don’t think…”

She closed the gap between them, lips insistently meeting his again. He responded, but there was still something off about her kiss, a distractedness, and when he lightly touched her waist, she noticeably flinched. He pulled away again, untangled his limbs from hers, and sat up.

“We’re stopping,” he said.

For a moment, she lay unmoving, staring blankly off into the distance. But then she sat up, pulled her knees to her chest, and turned away from him. She buried her face in her arms. Cullen’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Aylwen?” he said.

He scooted closer, kneeling beside her. She didn’t look up. Terror filled him. He’d never seen her like this, not in Honnleath, not even after Haven.

“Did I… did I do something?” he said. He’d never forgive himself if he’d hurt her, if her reaction was because of him. But she shook her head, still not looking up.

Cullen sat helplessly, unsure what to do or say, but starting to feel just a hint of the tightness in his chest and the shortness of breath that usually came only on his bad days. He tried to keep his breathing even, knowing that, no matter what, he couldn’t let those feelings overtake him now. He had to stay here in this moment, with her.

He took a deep breath and forced calm into his voice.

“Talk to me,” he said. “Please.”

He waited and, finally, she looked up. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were puffy, as if she were on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just… sometimes, when we’re together, I…”

She pressed her palms into her forehead.

“I start to remember Dylahn—the man I was engaged to—and suddenly it’s like I’m _there_ , not here.”

She dug her fingers into her hair. Cullen scooted closer, brow wrinkling in concern.

“Aylwen…” he said carefully. “Did that man… did he… hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No,” she said. “But everything that happened, everything he and I did… it was all a lie. When something reminds me of it, I feel… small, and weak. And _stupid_.”

She buried her face in her knees again, made a noise of frustration.

“I thought I was _better_ ,” she said. “I thought I was _fixed_.”

She didn’t say anymore. Cullen sat beside her, still trying to control the tightness in his chest. He’d never imagined she might be feeling what she was describing now. She always seemed so cheerful. Composed and in control. Seeing her like this was frightening, and painful. Painful because what she was describing was all too familiar. He knew it firsthand.

Tentatively, he reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He could feel her shaking slightly, but she didn’t move away.

“Listen,” he said quietly. “Memories are… they’re a tricky thing.”

He paused, thinking. Words were difficult for him to find at the best of times, but even more so at moments like this. He needed to choose them carefully.

“It’s frightening,” he said. “I know. It’s frightening to forget who you are. It’s frightening when you can’t trust your own mind. But…”

He paused again, waited for the words to come.

“But… I know you,” he said. “You’re not like me.”

She didn’t say anything, but he kept speaking. He had to try.

“You are… more,” he said. “You’re more than those memories. You’re more than what that man did to you. And…” He tightened his grip on her shoulder, “you _can_ move past this. You _will_ move past this. I know. Because I know you.”

She still didn’t speak. For several moments, she remained silent, unmoving. He waited, eyes on the candle flickering on his desk.

Then he felt thin but strong arms reach out and wrap around his middle. He looked down. Aylwen leaned into him, eyes closed. She rested her cheek against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

He pulled her closer, rested his head on hers. They sat that way a long time, feeling the rise and fall of the other’s breathing, before she spoke again.

“I’m worried you’ll get bored of me,” she said.

“That’s unlikely to happen.”

“I thought…” she said. “I thought that maybe if I kept going, if I pushed through, I could fix things.”

He traced his fingers lightly along the curve of her waist, sighed.

“There’s nothing you need to fix,” he said. “And pushing yourself isn’t a good idea.”

“…says the man who works all hours.”

He shoved her playfully with his hip. “Oh hush.”

She giggled, and the relief he felt, hearing it, was visceral. They fell into silence once more. She leaned in closer, half lying on him, cheek nuzzling against the armor on his chest.

“So you _really_ don’t mind if it takes awhile before we can… you know,” she said.

“Of course not,” he said. “There’s no rule about when a couple has to be, er, intimate. We can take our time.”

She lightly traced down his leg, looked up shyly.

“I _do_ want to be a little, um, intimate,” she said. “I might just have to… stop, sometimes.”

“Well… me too,” he said.

She quirked an eyebrow, surprised. “Really?”

“Really,” he said. “I wasn’t just being a gentleman before. I get scared too, sometimes.”

She looked thoughtful, then smiled. Tiredly, secretively. She snuggled into him.

“I think I want to be intimate right now,” she said.

“Oh?” he said. “What do you want to do?”

She closed her eyes. “I want you to keep holding me.”

He tightened his grip, closed his eyes as well.

“I think I can do that,” he said.


End file.
